


There's No Leaving Now

by alenie



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Light Bondage, M/M, stiles gets triggered
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-29
Updated: 2012-10-29
Packaged: 2017-11-17 08:03:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/549370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alenie/pseuds/alenie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles counted the milestones in their relationship by way of touches. The first time Derek let Stiles touch him without automatically tensing up. The first time they held hands, on the anniversary of Stiles’ mother’s death. The first time they kissed, on a perfectly ordinary Saturday morning in November.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's No Leaving Now

They would realize, later, that their mistake was in thinking that Derek was the only one who might have sexual hang-ups. After all, Stiles had been a complete virgin before Derek came crashing into his life, whereas Derek had miles of sexual issues to sort through, thanks to the-bitch-who-shall-not-be-named. It had taken months for Derek and Stiles to approximate anything near to a normal, functioning relationship.

In fact, after Derek had admitted to wanting Stiles, they’d touched less than when they’d purportedly hated each other. There’d been no more pushing Stiles up against walls, or shoving him into his Jeep, or casually touching his shoulder or slapping him upside the head when he did something stupid. Instead, Derek starting avoiding him, going out of his way to keep them from being alone together and maintaining a careful distance from him at all times.

It’d been confusing for Stiles- he’d thought maybe Derek had changed his mind, that Derek didn’t want him after all- and their relationship had almost ended before it had really had the chance to begin. It had taken a long, messy argument, with Stiles pushed near tears by his frustration with Derek’s inability to discuss his feelings, before anything had changed. Stiles had been on the verge of walking out when Derek touched his arm, asked him to stay, and told him, in hesitant starts and stops, about Kate.

Things hadn’t improved immediately after that, but Stiles knew Derek was trying, and that was enough. The casual touches started up again, although they never lasted long, and Stiles couldn’t help but notice the almost worried way Derek would look at him sometimes, like he was afraid of Stiles’ reaction.

It didn’t take long for them to realize that it was easier for Derek to touch than to be touched. Even pre-relationship, Derek had always acted like he was personally offended by Stiles touching him, glaring at him until he removed his hand from Derek’s person. And the first time Stiles had touched Derek after they became, well, whatever they were, Derek had flinched away so fast he’d backed into a table and knocked a glass to the ground, where it promptly shattered. And then he’d had this awful expression on his face, like he’d done something _wrong_ by not letting Stiles touch him. Stiles had to talk him down from leaving, a task made doubly difficult by the fact that Stiles was a somewhat tactile person and used to using touch as a means of comfort. He didn’t know how to reassure Derek if he wasn’t allowed to hug him.

Stiles counted the milestones in their relationship by way of touches. The first time Derek let Stiles touch him without automatically tensing up. The first time they held hands, on the anniversary of Stiles’ mother’s death. The first time they kissed, on a perfectly ordinary Saturday morning in November. The first time they shared a bed- not sexually, but just for comfort- on the anniversary of the fire, when Derek showed up on Stiles’ front porch looking miserable and refusing to talk about it.

There’d been setbacks along the way, like the time Stiles touched Derek in just the right- in just the _wrong_ way- and accidentally triggered him. It was weeks before Derek could handle being touched again.

But nine months after their awkward beginnings, they’d settled into a more or less ordinary relationship. Derek seemed to have come to terms with his sexual history, and as they grew more confident together they began trying out new things in bed. They started out with toys, simple things like dildos and blindfolds. Derek was extremely willing but always a little hesitant when it came to introducing new things into their sex life, so it was usually Stiles who made the suggestions, and Stiles who served as the guinea pig, letting Derek try out their purchases on him.

He’d only been half serious when he’d suggested bondage. He liked bottoming, and he liked letting Derek be in charge during sex, so it made sense to him that he’d like being tied down, too. Derek, surprisingly, had agreed.

They never even discussed the possibility of Derek being the one tied down- Stiles wasn’t an idiot, he knew that despite how hard Derek tried, he’d never be able to forget the utter helplessness he’d suffered at Kate’s hands when she chained him up in the basement- and Stiles was _not_ going to risk doing anything that might trigger him. Not even if Derek had said he wanted to. To be honest, Stiles was actually kind of worried that just having to tie Stiles down might be enough to bring up unpleasant memories for Derek. But Derek said it would be okay and Stiles trusted him to know his limits.

They researched bondage extensively on the internet and made sure to buy the right kind of rope to avoid chafing. Derek practiced tying secure, but easy-to-release knots and Stiles came up with a safeword, just in case.

They set a date, and plan for Stiles to spend the whole day at Derek’s apartment. His dad won’t mind, as long as he’s back by his 12 AM curfew. He knows about Stiles and Derek by now. There was no way Stiles was going to be capable of hiding a relationship for long, so Stiles had spilled the beans when it became obvious that this thing with Derek was going to last. The Sheriff hadn’t exactly been _pleased_ to hear that his son was dating the infamous Derek Hale, the same Derek Hale who Stiles had once accused of murder, but it could have gone worse. At least he didn’t try to arrest Derek for having sex with a minor. But it should be noted that that was only thanks to a very awkward conversation in which Stiles was forced to explain to his dad that Derek had been adamant about waiting until Stiles was eighteen to, uh, do certain things. And then his dad made him invite Derek over to dinner.

Derek’s waiting for him when he knocks on the door. They head to his bedroom straight away and spend a lot of time making out and just fooling around on Derek’s bed, kissing and grinding into each other, not even bothering to get naked. Stiles feels that extra-special anticipation that he always gets when they try something new, and it’s making him hyped up and hornier than usual. Eventually they pause long enough to undress each other, and then Derek fetches the rope and carefully ties both of Stiles’ wrists to the headboard. It’s fun; it feels like they’re playing some kind of game. A sexy, naked game. Stiles spreads his legs and grins at Derek. All their touching has gotten him hard, and the head of his dick is already sticky with pre-come.

Derek settles into the vee of his legs and kisses him firmly on the mouth, rubbing his hard-on against Stiles’ stomach before kissing his way down Stiles’ body to his cock. His mouth is warm and wet, as mouths tend to be, and Stiles squirms eagerly as Derek starts to suck him. It’s good, it’s really good, right up until Stiles gets so turned on that he forgets his wrists are tied. Up until this point he’s been happy to lie there and let Derek do all the work, but when Derek’s blowing him he really likes to thread his hands into Derek’s hair, and he moves to do so automatically.

The rope holds fast when he tries to reach down to touch Derek and he can’t move his wrists, not at all, and he’s panicking before he knows what happened, before he can even think about using his safeword. It’s a senseless, innate kind of panic, which swallows him whole in the blink of an eye. One second he’s happy and horny, the next he’s gasping for air, frantically yanking against the ropes in a desperate struggle to get free.

He’s vaguely aware of Derek moving off his body and he knows Derek’s talking to him- Stiles can see his mouth moving- but he can’t calm down enough to listen. All he can hear are the sounds of his own uncontrollable sobs. He can feel Derek’s hands by his wrists, undoing the knots, but it seems to take forever and he can’t hold still, even though he knows he’d be free sooner if he stopped fighting and let Derek untie him. As soon as the ropes slip from around his wrists he scrambles up and into Derek’s arms, crying helplessly.

He knows he’s clinging to Derek too hard, but Derek’s holding him just as tightly, stroking his back and talking softly in his ear, saying his name over and over.

It’s at least five minutes before he can control his tears and another five after that before he feels ready to talk. He spends the interim with his face buried in Derek’s neck. When he finally calms down enough to lift his head and meet Derek’s eyes, he sees that Derek looks just as upset as Stiles. Stiles can relate. It’s the worst feeling in the world, watching someone you love suffer and not knowing how to help. 

“I’m okay,” he manages. “Sorry I freaked out on you.”

Derek doesn’t look reassured. He carefully takes hold of both of Stiles’ wrists and examines them for marks. There’s some redness, because of how hard Stiles had been fighting against the ropes, but it will fade soon enough.

“Really, I’m fine.” 

“You’re not fine. You flipped out,” Derek says, frowning. “Stiles, I thought- Christ, I don’t know what I thought. Your heartbeat, it was… Don’t do that again.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Stiles says. He tries to laugh but it comes out wet and gross-sounding, reminding him that his face is covered in tears and snot and he probably looks like a mess. “Can you get me some tissues?” 

He’s reluctant to let go of Derek, but he manages it, and sits there anxiously hugging his knees for the all of twenty seconds it takes for Derek to walk into the bathroom and fetch a box of tissues. Derek waits patiently for him to blow his nose and wipe his face, and then he gathers Stiles up again, touching his arms and face like he’s reassuring himself that Stiles is okay. 

“Stop that, I’m fine, I- it didn’t hurt, okay, that wasn’t it.” 

“Was it me? Did I do something wrong?” Derek asks. 

“No! This is zero percent your fault. I just, I wanted to touch you, and then when I couldn’t, it was… it was terrifying. I couldn’t even think. I just panicked.” 

He shudders, and Derek rubs his back. 

“I think I want to get dressed,” Stiles says. He gropes around for his shirt, and puts his hand down on one of the discarded coils of rope instead. Derek catches the way he tenses up and takes the rope from him and tosses it under the bed. He picks up Stiles’ shirt and helps him put it on, and then finds his boxers for him as well. 

It’s not that cold in the room, but Stiles starts to tremble, and he can’t seem to stop. Derek drapes a blanket over his shoulders and wraps it around him. 

“Fuck, what’s w-wrong with me?” he says. “Derek-” 

“I think you got triggered.” 

“But that doesn’t even make _sense_ , I’ve never b-been tied up before.” 

“Doesn’t matter. You panicked because you couldn’t move, right?” 

“Yeah,” Stiles says slowly. “But what…oh. When I was paralyzed. By the k-kanima.” 

That actually makes a lot of sense. He thinks back to what had happened the two times he’d been paralyzed, and feels sick to his stomach. He’d watched a man die. He’d thought he was going to watch his dad die. He presses his hands to his face and tries to take long, deep breaths, feelings the fear rising in him again. 

Derek’s hands are on his shoulders, touching him anxiously. 

“Don’t think about it,” Derek says. “It’s okay. It’s over and you’re okay.” 

“Is this what it’s like when you get triggered? Because this is awful.” 

“It’s similar, but…not quite the same.” 

“Because you don’t like to be touched afterwards?” 

“Yes, that’s part of it.” 

“What else?” Stiles says. “Will you tell me?” 

Derek exhales a faint, unhappy sound. 

“How do you feel right now?” he asks. “What’s your strongest emotion?” 

“I don’t know, probably fear? Or worry.” Stiles pauses. “That’s not yours, is it.” 

“No. When I- when it happens to me- it’s guilt.”

“Aw shit. That sucks, I’m sorry.” Stiles shifts in closer to Derek, so close that he’s half in Derek’s lap, and their noses are bumping together. “I wish you didn’t feel that way.” 

He kisses the corner of Derek’s mouth. Derek turns his head and finds his lips, and for several long, slow, minutes the only sound in the room is the wet press of mouth on mouth. Derek’s hands go up under Stiles’ t-shirt to cradle him close, and Stiles wraps his arms around Derek’s neck. Derek’s skin is warm and his hands and lips are gentle and it is exactly what Stiles needs. 

“Take me home?” he asks, when they break apart. 

“Of course,” Derek says, but there’s upset lurking around the edges of his expression. Stiles kisses him again. 

“Dude, it’s not your fault. I’m not mad at you. I just need to go home, and see my dad,” he explains. 

Derek drives the Jeep back to Stiles’ house, because Stiles is still feeling kind of shaky. He parks and they get out, and Derek looks faintly surprised when Stiles takes his hand and pulls him towards the house. 

“You’re staying for dinner,” Stiles tells him, because apparently Derek is a stupid-head and thought Stiles wanted Derek to drop him off and go home. 

His dad’s working at the kitchen table, but he jumps up when he gets a good look at Stiles’ puffy, tear-stained face. 

“What the hell happened?” he asks, glaring at Derek. 

“Dad, it’s okay,” Stiles says. “It’s not Derek’s fault. I just…I freaked out about something, and he had to calm me down, but I’m okay now.” 

“You’re sure? You’re not hurt?” 

“I’m really not. Can Derek have dinner with us?” 

“Of course,” his dad says automatically. He and Derek exchange nods. “You two are staying here the rest of the day?” 

“Yeah, we’ll probably just, I dunno, bum around and watch crappy movies.” 

After reassuring his dad yet again that he is indeed okay, he pulls Derek into the living room and hunts down his collection of spaghetti westerns. He pops _3:10 to Yuma_ into the DVD player, sits down on the couch, and settles in against Derek’s side. 

“Dude, I’m gonna try my best to stay awake,” he informs Derek, “because this is an awesome movie and you’re culturally deficient so it’s my job to educate you, but I should warn you that I am really tired, and you make a great pillow.” 

He’s asleep before the first gunfight.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song by The Tallest Man on Earth. This is unbeta'd, so forgive me if there's any weird verb tense confusion, because I couldn't decide what tense I wanted to write this in and had to go back and change a lot of it.


End file.
